Deep Breath
by Westward
Summary: If he had paid better attention, Nick would have known that Ellis couldn't swim.


He should have known since Rayford.

Nick was too busy shouting profanities at the greasy, vest wearing biker on the bridge to notice how quiet Ellis had grown. Nick's fingers were itching for the side arm that he had dropped back in the mall in Savannah. If it hadn't been for the Tank that had threatened to pulverize their escape vehicle, Nick would have shot the stranger by now. Not fatally shot; the conman knew better than to kill what looked like his only chance of crossing over the murky river.

"Go to hell, Colonel Sanders!" The biker shouted back down at Nick, giving him the finger as he did so. Nick scowled at the man's back as he chuckled and turned around, heading towards the other end of the bridge. Within seconds, the biker disappeared in the early morning fog, leaving the group of four alone in the eerily empty town square of Rayford, Georgia.

Nick didn't have to turn around to know that Rochelle and Coach were glaring daggers at the back of his head disapprovingly, but he ignored them.

"Great, nice going Nicholas. I can't believe you were a conman!" Rochelle said through a sigh, taking her head in a hand and rubbing her temple methodically. Perhaps if would have been better if he had let the woman sweet talk the biker into helping them, like she had suggested five minutes ago. "How are we going to get to other side now?"

"Well, I can think of one way." Nick muttered as he peered over the railing and down into the slow moving, muddy river. He squinted as he nudged a small rock over the edge, watching it hit the cold water with a splash. Keeping his eyes on the water, Nick asked aloud, "Anyone up for a swim?"

"We are _not_ swimming."

Ellis spoke up for the first time since he awkwardly climbed out of the stock car. Nick, Rochelle, and Coach all turned to look at the youngest member of their group, surprised by the serious determination in his voice. Now that he had their eyes on him, Ellis suddenly grew interested in the pavement below his feet. For the first time since meeting him, barely two days ago, Nick was pleasantly surprised by how sheepish the talkative mechanic was acting.

Ellis cleared his throat, and then his eyes flew up to meet Coach's gaze. "Guys, I am _not_ leaving the Jimmy Gibbs Jr. If you three want to try and swim across the river, then be my guest. But this is where I'm saying my goodbyes if that's the case."

"Great! Nice knowing you Ellis." Nick said, barely seconds after the mechanic finished. If the dumb idiot wanted to be left behind, where he would most certainly meet his end by a horde of raging zombies, then Nick wasn't about to complain. Nick was still partially convinced that the youth would end up being dead weight anyways. "Thanks for all your help—"

"Nick!" Rochelle gasped, glaring at the conman. She punched Nick on his left shoulder, surprising him by how strong the small woman actually was. _Ouch!_ As Nick rubbed his now aching shoulder, he was met by the woman's raw ire. He flinched at the anger and what he guessed what must have been disappointment in Rochelle's eyes.

"Ro! What the hell was that for?!" Nick asked accusingly.

It was Coach that answered for her.

"We are not leaving _anyone_ behind." Coach stated, his voice full of authority as if he was reprimanding a pair of delinquent children. Nick turned to look at the man, who had his arms crossed and was leaning against the side of the stock car. Coach had his eyes on Nick, and his knitted brows complimented his frown. Coach's attention shifted to Ellis after a few minutes of glowering at Nick, and his expression didn't soften. "Ellis."

Ellis turned to the man, frowning sadly as he scratched his head underneath his hat. The askew hat threatened to blow away with the wind coming off the river, but its owner clamped down on the brim and tucked it snugly back on.

"You do realize at some point we're going to have to leave the car behind." Coach said matter-of-factly. "I was hoping for somewhere closer to N'awlins, but I guess we'll have to make do."

"Coach I thought that you'd understand, being a native of Savannah and all, but I guess not. I am not leaving this car behind!" Ellis shook his head and spoke with more force in his voice, seemingly refusing to see reason.

Nick couldn't help it and let out an aggravated sigh. Tugging at the strands of his gelled back hair, Nick scowled angrily at Ellis. After spending two days with the talkative mechanic, Nick felt close to snapping, and he was all too eager to agree with parting with Ellis. It would at least save him from this gnawing headache he received whenever Ellis rambled on with his stories.

"We might not have to." Rochelle jumped in, catching their attention and promptly stopping the conversation.

Nick and the other two men turned to see that her eyes were trained on the bridge. Up on the bridge stood a young woman in a red zip-up hoodie, almost in the same spot as the greasy biker minutes before. Her arms rested against the railing, and she was watching the group below with a mixture of amusement and annoyance. Nick felt his mouth set into a thin, grim line as he stared up at the girl. How long had she been standing there? How much had she heard?

Nick turned his head and shared a look with Coach, and then the larger man pushed himself off of the stock car's side. He walked passed Nick, brushing his side so he could whisper something only he could hear.

"Might be a good idea if you keep your mouth shut, Nicholas." Coach said in a hushed tone.

"Whatever." Nick brushed off before turning and walking to the back of the stock car, where he could sulk alone.

"Hello up there!" Coach called out, his booming voice definitely catching the attention of the woman. "Can you help us?"

The woman didn't answer for a second, chewing her bottom lip as she thought. "You need to get across the bridge?"

"Yes! Can you lower the bridge for us?" Coach said, finally smiling with relief.

But the man's relief disappeared as the woman shook her head. Nick watched as Coach's shoulders sagged heavily, and Rochelle shared a glance of disbelief with Ellis. Ellis, however, seemed to not notice Rochelle, or anything else. His attention was completely drawn on the woman twenty feet above him. Even from this angle, Nick could see the dumbstruck look on the mechanic's face.

"No, sorry. No can do." The woman said as she frowned, eyes still on Coach. "If you need to get across, you'll need to find another way around. There's a generator on the other side, and you can use that to bring down the bridge!"

"If there's a generator, couldn't you bring down the bridge for us?" Rochelle spoke up, craning her neck to catch the other woman's gaze.

Again the woman shook her head.

"I'm sorry, but my friends and I went through a lot of trouble to get this bridge up. If you need to get the bridge down, you'll have to do it yourself." As the words left the woman's mouth, Nick let out a tired sigh. He rested his head against the back of the car, welcoming the feeling of the cold metal on his forehead. His eyes still closed, Nick listened to her continue. "But if you can get to the other side, we're willing to help in any way we can."

"Well, I guess that's all we can ask for." Coach nodded in thanks.

The woman nodded as well, and then walked away, disappearing into the fog like her friend had. Coach finally turned around and sighed, shaking his head in disappointment. Nick rejoined with them, grabbing the baseball bat out of the stock car as he did so. He, Rochelle, and Coach quietly talked things over, discussing their plan of action, and whether they should just turn around and take an alternate plan to New Orleans.

Finally, it was decided. They would first look for weapons before anything, and then search the small town for any way to get over the river. If not, they would take a detour, which would cost them some much needed time and daylight. The stock car still had half a tank of gas left, and they had to be careful of how much they used.

Nick sat down his bat before opening the trunk. He suddenly felt a few drops of water hitting his exposed skin and stared up at the sky. He grimaced; rain wasn't going to help them much if they spent the next several hours scavenging around town. Ignoring the drops of rain, he pulled out one of their spare health packs and handed it to Rochelle. Rochelle silently thanked him before grabbing her side arm and reloaded it. Coach did as well before grabbing the fire axe Ellis had claimed as his own since their meeting on _The Vannah_'s smoky rooftop.

Coach turned to hand the weapon over to Ellis, but it was then that he noticed that Ellis hadn't moved for a long while. Rochelle looked up from her pistol, and Nick followed her gaze to Ellis's back. Ellis's attention was still trained on the bridge, and he barely paid any attention to their curious gazes. Even as Coach grabbed a hold of his shoulder, Ellis only gave the older man a glance before turning to stare at the bridge. He absentmindedly accepted the offered axe, and then gripped it tight in his fingers.

"Ellis?" Rochelle finally spoke up. When the mechanic didn't answer her, Rochelle shared a concerned look with Nick. "Ellis, sweetie?"

"Oh my god. She's the most beautiful girl I've ever seen." Ellis finally breathed, his southern accent was heavy with admiration.

With that, Nick rolled his eyes before replying sarcastically. "Yeah. She's quite a gem, Overalls. Now let's get moving before it starts to storm."

But within minutes the skies above released a downpour, much to Nick's irritation.

Hours later, after the rain had finally stopped, the group had found a way over the river. Or rather, under the river.

"I don't think I like the sound of this." Nick muttered to himself.

The conman eyed the historic tour advertised in the store's window. He cleaned his newly acquired submachine gun absentmindedly and leaned against the countertop, arm resting on the cash register. He stared at Coach as he did so, who was too excited at this new prospect for Nick's tastes. He then turned his attention back to the window, and out into the street where they had come from.

"If you ask me, an 'Under the River' tour sounds an awful lot like a sewer."

"Come on Nick, it says it's historical. It can't be all that bad." Coach said as he reloaded his weapon of choice. "I'll bet it'll even be fun."

"I don't know… I have to agree with Nick on this one."

It was Ellis who spoke up. Nick turned to watch Ellis raise the hunting rifle in his hands to test its sights by poking the barrel of the gun out of the broken window. Nick had assumed that the hick was more interested in the weapon he had taken than the conversation, but now he stood corrected. Slowly Ellis lowered the gun and gave Nick a solemn look before continuing. The way his eyes seemed apprehensive only barely crossed Nick's mind.

"Something _under_ a _river_ doesn't sound fun at all to me."

"See, even _Ellis _agrees with me." Nick stated, raising an open hand, motioning towards the other man.

Their argument would have gone further if it wasn't for Rochelle, who had been on watch while the others were preparing. She held up a hand, motioning for the others to either stop talking or quiet down. Instantly, the conversation was dropped.

"Sh. Quiet, I hear a Witch." Rochelle said in a hushed tone, making the three men snap their attention onto her. "Lights out."

With a nod of his head, Coach took point. Together, the four headed towards their destination, carefully listening to the cries of a mourning Witch. They happened across a wedding in another town park, where Ellis had made a quick remark that this was a sign to marry the girl on the bridge. Before the idiot could go any further, however, Nick grabbed his shoulder and halted him his steps. Nick gave the mechanic a steely glare before placing a finger on his lips and motioned towards the decorated pavilion.

He had found their Witch.

Getting past the extremely dangerous Infected proved to be difficult. There was no way around other than through her, and none of them felt like becoming live bait. It was Coach who finally came up with the idea to turn on the music amplifier, in hopes that the loud music would confuse her. With the help of the Molotov Rochelle had found back in the bar they passed through, it might have been possible to cause the Witch to run away instead of attacking them.

In the end it was Rochelle that offered to turn the amplifier on. She had the best reflexes out of all of them, and if the Witch did decide to run after her, the others would have her back.

Minutes later, after some more careful preparation, the audio system buzzed with life. A blaring song instantly started up, causing Nick's ears to ring from the outrageous guitar chords. The conman watched as the mourning Witch instantly grew hostile. And while her vicious growls could not be heard over the roar of the music, it was her glowing red eyes that tipped him off.

"Rochelle! Run!" Nick shouted. And somehow, the woman heard her.

As the woman bolted away, down the steps and back towards the apartment complex they had gone through, Ellis had already lit the Molotov's rag. Soon there was fire spreading everywhere, and the Witch finally let out her ear shattering scream. The Witch sprinted through the raging fire and past the three men, what was left of her ruined white dress was ablaze.

There was the roar of an impending horde, and Nick instantly turned to find the feral Infected at their heels. He suppressed the incoming Infected while the other two desperately tried to kill the Witch. With their combined firepower, Coach and Ellis watched the Witch's body fall, limp. But not before it had caught up to Rochelle.

"Are you gonna be okay?" Ellis asked, his voice full of concern, as he helped the woman up.

"Yeah. I'll be fine." Rochelle nodded as she stumbled to get back up on her feet. The woman sucked in a deep hiss before turning her attention to her left arm. Blood was seeping from large gashes where the Witch had struck her. It looked like it hurt, and Nick guessed the only reason the woman wasn't in intense pain was from shock. "But I think I should bandage this up before we go any further."

Coach nodded in agreement. "You won't lose the arm, girl. But you'll have some deep scars."

Rochelle slowly nodded as she unzipped her first aid kit, her expression unreadable. Coach quickly helped the woman disinfect her wounds as she unraveled the gauze in her first aid kit. Within minutes the woman was sporting new white bandages around her left shoulder down to her elbow. Rochelle quickly tested the flexibility of the bandages before nodding to Coach in thanks.

Now they were able to move forward.

They found a Safe House not too far ahead, and spent a few hours there. Both Nick and Coach went out to scavenge for food while Ellis played the role of nurse for Rochelle. After they had properly stitched up Rochelle's arm with the rest of the supplies from her first aid, they ate a quick meal. But they did not stay for long, for they feared night would fall before they would find another Safe House, and soon they were on their way to Rayford's historical tour.

Said historical tour did not live to Coach's expectations.

"Admit it, Coach. This 'Historic Tour' is just a dirty basement." Nick pointed out as he stepped over the dead body of the Charger had had him pinned down in a corner. Nick unfortunately took in a breath through his nose and instantly started choking. "And god, _what_ is that _awful smell_?!"

"Probably dead bodies, Nick." Ellis answered absentmindedly. He was bent over, searching through a green footlocker for supplies they needed.

"Thanks, Einstein." Nick replied sarcastically as he went to stand by Coach's side. Nick looked at the man, and saw the disappointed expression that was plastered on his face. Nick couldn't help but smirk as he continued. "What do you know Coach, your historic tour is also a mass grave for zombies."

"Stay off the dirt, it's historical!" Rochelle chimed in, teasing the larger man with a small smile. At least her new wound wasn't souring her attitude.

Coach only gave an aggravated sigh as a response before moving on.

Deep within the dirty, sprawling basement was a lurking Tank. Somehow its grunts and growls went unnoticed by all four of them. And it wasn't until Ellis had come face to face with the Tank did they realize what the awful smell from was coming from. The Tank was soaked and stained with what Nick could only guess was shit water, and his stomach dropped when he realized that his earlier predictions had been right.

The Tank had caught them by surprise, but fortunately the beast went down fairly quickly, and they all received only a few scratches and bruises. The worse for wear was Rochelle, whose stitches had been torn during their struggle to flee from the raging brute. Dark red blood now seeped out of the tightly wrapped bandages, and Rochelle grunted in pain when she tried to move it. The woman popped a few pain pills before assuring the others that she could move onward until they reached another Safe House.

But it seemed the Tank had done more damage than they thought, for their only path down into the "under the river" part of the tour was now a mess of concrete and warped metal. The metal staircase they were currently standing on had been seemingly snapped in half. With the help of Ellis's flashlight, the group could see down into the void, where a pile of rubble and dead bodies poked out of the muddy brown water.

"Looks like we'll have to jump, people." Coach announced, not sounding all too happy about it.

"That's a pretty far fall, Coach. We could end up hurting ourselves." Nick pointed out, frowning as he stared at the murky water. The smell from what was most certainly a sewer was making his nose shrivel up in disgust. The Tank had to have been rolling around in the water before paying them a visit.

"Nah, that's barely twenty feet. I think we can make it." Coach said, not sounding entirely convinced himself. "Just aim to land in the water. It might be deep enough to soften our fall."

"In… the water?" Ellis finally spoke up, his nervousness having returned. There was a small pause as he gulped. "I don't think I can do that, Coach."

Coach only gave a small chuckle before patting the youngster on his shoulder reassuringly. Ellis tried to give the older man a smile, but it wavered as he turned to look back down into the sewer. It went unnoticed by the others and Ellis tightened his hold on his hunting rifle.

"It's not that far of a jump, boy. I know you can do it."

To prove his point, it was Coach who jumped first. The man called up seconds later to inform them that he was right, that it was deep enough to jump in safely. Rochelle was the next one to do it, and Nick could hear her groan in aggravation as the dirty water splashed her face. Nick turned to Ellis, who looked equally as displeased at this turn of events.

"After you, Killer." Nick offered, motioning for Ellis to jump.

Ellis shook his head, looking extremely nervous. "No. No, you go first. I… I think I hear a Smoker down there. I might be able to get it from up here before it snags one of us." As if to prove his point, Ellis brought up his hunting rifle and looked through the scope. "Don't worry Nick, I've got your back."

Nick gave Ellis a sharp look before shrugging. He hooked his submachine gun onto his belt and looked over the edge one last time. He was going to regret this.

Nick landed with a large splash, feeling the bottom of the sewage as his feet made contact with the ground. It felt a bit too sticky for his taste, and it was then that Nick decided it would be better if he focused on not breathing through his nose instead of where he was stepping. Coach and Rochelle waded through the sewer water until they were at his side, and then the three looked up to see Ellis's silhouette still standing at the edge of the wrecked metal staircase.

"Come on Ellis! Jump!" Rochelle called out, cupping her hands over her mouth.

"One second!"

There was a single shot from his hunting rifle, and then the sound of a body splashing into the sewer from behind them. Nick could only assume that it was the body of the Smoker Ellis had heard. The three turned to look at the sound, weapons drawn, and then they heard a second splash as Ellis finally joined them. And he did not look pleased at the fact.

"Well, at least it's not too deep." Ellis said through a sigh before immediately taking point and heading towards the emergency ladder on the far end of the room.

Nick should have known right then and there.

* * *

><p>He should have connected the dots, six days later.<p>

Nick found himself huddled up in the waiting room of a Tunnel of Love, of all places_._ The group of four were settling down for a rough night, having just fought for their lives through the most demented merry-go-round Nick had ever had the displeasure of riding. A Hunter had pounced on him halfway through the ride, and the Infected proved to be very determined in killing his prey. If it wasn't for Ellis, Nick would have died.

Nick now found himself lying on his back as Coach and Ellis stitched and bandaged his chest, high on painkillers as the two talked over him in voices he could barely make out. Someone was holding his hand, and he didn't who it was; if it wasn't in his direct line of sight, it didn't matter right now.

In their haste to bandage him, the shredded remains of Nick's white suit jacket were thrown to the side. The strips of fabric were now being used as makeshift gauze. The blue undershirt was in just as bad condition, but Nick had convinced them to save it through gibberish words; even in this state of mind, Nick knew he didn't want to end up running around half naked in the god damn zombie apocalypse. But if there was a spare shirt lying somewhere around the abandoned Whispering Oaks amusement park, Nick wouldn't hesitate to take it.

Rochelle was already asleep. The effects of the adrenaline she took to shut the damn machine off in time had caused her to crash hard. Nick was even sure that if a Tank came knocking on their Safe House door at this very minute, it wouldn't be able to wake the poor woman up. He turned his head to look at her sleeping form and smiled softly in his groggy state. She needed the sleep more than any of them, even him.

Suddenly, there were hands on his shoulders, startling him out of his dream-like state. Nick panicked, his heartbeat suddenly pounding against his eardrums, as he was pulled up into a sitting position and forced to lean into the nearest wall. His vision swam and he desperately tried to focus on the faces in front of him. Coach and Ellis finally appeared out of the haze, and Nick grimaced before squeezing his eyes shut and rubbing the bridge of his nose slowly and uncoordinatedly. His breaths came out as short puffs, and the pain in his chest made it hard for him to breathe.

"Hurts like shit." He managed to choke out.

"Take it easy for a while Nick." It was Coach who spoke, but his voice sounded far off. Nick opened his eyes to see that it was Coach who had a hold on his shoulders. "The meds won't wear off for a few more hours, so don't try to move around. Better yet, it might be a better idea if you try to catch some sleep."

"Coach and I will be right back. We're gonna look and see if CEDA left any supplies behind that can help you." Ellis added, giving Nick what he assumed was a concerned look.

And before Nick could understand the meaning behind their words, they were gone. It was as if they vanished in thin air, but Nick could only guess that he had dozed off before the two had departed. The effects of the drugs seemed to be wearing off, as the world finally stilled for the conman, but the aching in the chest grew in intensity. He clutched at bandaged chests, surprised to feel the bandages damp.

He looked down to see the gauze already stained pink. Nick let out a small sigh as he brought his suspended hand down into his lap, knowing not to mess with the bandages any more than he already had. They were already dangerously low on supplies, no need to waste what he already had.

A quick glance at Rochelle, and he saw that the woman was still asleep. She had barely moved since claiming the spot in the corner as her own, and Nick panicked for a short second, wondering if the adrenaline had stopped her heart. But no, he could see her chest rise and fall evenly; Rochelle was still alive.

Nick remained awake for perhaps half an hour longer before growing tired again. The large room had a calming effect on him, and he allowed his head to fall back and rest against the cold wall.

This time he knew that sleep claimed him, because when he woke up, he woke up to a pitch black room and the sound of Coach's roaring snores. It startled Nick back to reality, and he cried out in pain from hitting the back of his head against the wall with too much force. Clutching both the back of his head and his aching chest, Nick looked around the darkened room. He couldn't see a damn thing.

"Jesus shit." Nick muttered as he rubbed his head. He carefully reached out for his flashlight, but was met with only the touch of the dirty carpet under the pads of his fingers. After a few seconds of fumbling around in the dark, Nick heard a sound and instantly froze. "Hello? Anyone up?"

Whoever it was responded by turning on their flashlight. Nick was blinded by the light for a few seconds. As his eyes adjusted, Ellis appeared out of the darkness and stumbled sleepily over to Nick. Propping the flashlight into one of his empty boots that rested against the room's tables, Ellis kneeled down and grabbed a hold of Nick and helped him back into his sitting position.

"Easy there..." Ellis whispered in a soft tone. "You're still a little banged up. How are you feeling, man?"

"Like shit." Nick coughed, wincing at the pain in his chest as he did so. "Did you guys find any more pain pills?"

"Yeah, enough until you can get back on your feet." Ellis answered with a nod. He stood up and slowly walked back into the dark of the room until Nick could barely make out his shadow. "Hold on a minute. I'll be right back."

"Does it look like I'm going _anywhere_, Overalls?" Nick snapped, surprised by the amount of venom that was in his words. He heard more than he saw Ellis freeze in his tracks, and Nick had a feeling that the mechanic's eyes were on him. Nick looked down at his bandages after a few seconds, unwilling to look in Ellis's eyes for some reason. "Sorry. It's… it's my damn chest."

"That's okay, Nick. We've all been pounced by a Hunter at this point. I know how it feels." Ellis said, his words sounding like he had chosen them carefully. Nick heard Ellis's footsteps draw closer, and then Ellis reappeared in his field of view. "We were just too far away from you to stop it from only ripping up your clothes. That extra layer of clothing probably saved your life."

"Yeah, in more ways than one now." Nick agreed.

Ellis held out his hand after a few seconds of dead silence. Nick reached out with his own, and the younger man let two large pills fall into the open palm. Nick observed the pills in the dim light before popping them in his mouth, taking them dry. They only reached halfway down his throat before the conman started to cough. Ellis was by his side in an instant, grabbing a hold of his nearest shoulder and patting his back like a mother would with an infant.

"Water." Nick managed to get out, and Ellis instantly handed the man his spare water bottle. Within seconds, Nick drank most of the water before finally handing the bottle back over to Ellis. "Thanks, I owe you one."

Ellis nodded, but otherwise remained silent. Slowly, the younger man sat down next to Nick, his back resting against the wall. He brought his knees up to his chest, resting his forearms against them. Nick stared at Ellis questioningly as he waited for the pain meds to kick in. Ellis wouldn't meet his gaze, but was instead staring at the door that had been barricaded for the night.

A few minutes of silence passed between the two men.

"Are you on watch?" Nick asked, his voice hoarse after his coughing fit.

"Yeah. Just switched with Coach about half an hour ago. That's probably why he woke you up." As soon as the words left Ellis's mouth, a loud roar erupted from Coach. Both Nick and Ellis flinched from the deafening sound before sharing a look with each other. It always seemed that the man's snores were more disruptive the more tired he grew. "I'll be on watch for the rest of the night. So if you need me, just call."

"For the rest of the night? You'll be exhausted when we leave in the morning." Nick pointed out, frowning as he glanced at Ellis's side. Even now, the conman could see Ellis's shoulders were drooped, and the bags under his eyes were darker, more pronounced. The last thing the group needed was Ellis nodding off during an attacking horde.

Ellis was already shaking his head. "With your injury? No, we're not leaving tomorrow. Ro, Coach, and I already decided to give you another day to recuperate."

"Ellis, I don't know if you can realize it or not, but we can't afford to lose another day." Nick stressed. Who knew how long New Orleans would last, and Nick prayed to whatever deity was up there looking down on them that the last stronghold would hold out long enough for them to reach it in time. "If it takes us too long to get—"

"We can't afford to lose you, Nick."

Whatever Nick had planned on saying, the words were lost as he froze midsentence. The conman bit his lower lip, electing to remain silent, and turned towards Ellis, who was now looking straight at him. The stern look on his face aged the mechanic, maturing him into someone that Nick barely recognized if it wasn't for the stupid baseball cap on his head. No matter, Ellis had surprised Nick, and he took his confused expression as an invitation to clarify his statement.

"Look, I know you don't like me, Nick. You made that clear all the way back in Savannah. You- you're indifferent about Coach and Rochelle; sometimes you even get along with them. But you're never even gonna give me a chance." Ellis's stare moved to his socks, as if he was unable to look at Nick in the eye any longer. He wiggled his toes, watching the fabric shift with the motion.

"I'm just some dumb mechanic from the South, what am I supposed to know? I know the only reason you put up with me is so you can have an extra pair of eyes watching your back, Nick. And honestly, I'm perfectly okay with that."

There was a small pause, as if Ellis was giving Nick the opportunity to deny these small allegations. He couldn't, and remained silent. This seemed to discourage Ellis, but it didn't stop him. He shrugged and then continued.

"I just- I just want all of us to get to New Orleans. I miss my family, I miss Keith. They were all evacuated, Nick. They were the first ones on the helicopter out of Savannah. I stayed behind to close up the auto shop, thinking that maybe looters would break in and trash the place." At this, Ellis gave a small, hopeless chuckle. "What was I thinking… zombies won't bother robbing an auto shop. But… what's done is done; I'm here in the zombie apocalypse, and they're all safe. And it was _that _thought was what kept me going when we first got started. That if we got to the mall in time, I could see them again. But now, I'm—"

Whatever words Ellis was looking for, he couldn't find them. That, or he wasn't capable of saying them. Ellis gulped one last time, before turning to face Nick again.

"I guess what I'm trying to say is that I care about you. Coach and Rochelle too. And you're in no shape to move yet. If we do leave tomorrow, you'll have a big red target on your back. If a Smoker or a Charger get you, you'll be in a lot worse shape than you are in now." Ellis said, finally standing up and returning to his post by the barricaded door. His hunting rifle was in his hands, and this had a calming effect on the younger man.

"We're taking one more day off; it'll be good for you. And there's nothing you can say that'll convince all three of us otherwise."

That was the end of that conversation, for Ellis didn't leave any room for Nick to say otherwise. Nick stared at Ellis for a few seconds, dumbstruck at the youth. He had never seen Ellis this serious before, but perhaps it was because the pain pills were finally working their way through his system. Or that Ellis was exhausted; through experience, Nick learned that the Ellis's temper shortened with the less sleep that he had.

Nick wouldn't dwell on it at the moment. Thinking of sleep reminded Nick how tired he was. Carefully, Nick moved into a more comfortable position. Now laying on his side, Nick faced the wall and observed the shadows that his body carved from the flashlight's light. He rested his head against his arm and placed he free hand protectively on his bandaged chest. The pain was receding and, even though the meds were dulling his senses, Nick was thankful.

Outside, the cicadas were singing in the cool night air, oblivious to the apocalypse that undid the world. If Nick focused, he could faintly hear Ellis's steady breathing. The conman allowed the sounds to surround him, and he felt himself slowly slip away as the minutes ticked by.

"Hey, Ellis?" Nick whispered, speaking before his drowsy brain could process what he was doing.

There was a long pause before the mechanic answered. "Hmm?"

"I can't sleep."

"It's only been ten minutes, Nick. Once the painkillers kick in, it'll knock you out."

"They _have_ kicked in, and I'm still awake."

"Well, what do you want me to do about it?"

He knew he was going to regret this as soon as the words left his sluggish mouth. "Tell me a story about… about Keith."

Ellis was surprised to hear the request, particularly when it came from Nick. Nick didn't have to look at the southerner's face to know that, the silence was enough. Nick waited, wondering if Ellis would go along with his request or just tell Nick to go back to sleep.

"One time… one time Keith had to do community service because he…"

Somehow Ellis's words were lost on Nick. He could still hear the mechanic's voice, but the words were mumbled and disjointed. Nick tried his hardest to focus on the words, but only managed to achieve catching the last half of Ellis's story.

"… Keith ended up treading water for almost half an hour before the thing finally let go of him. He was way off the coast and most people couldn't even see him, he was so far out. By the time the Coast Guard found him, Keith lost a lot of blood and was half drowned. They were worried that—"

"Why didn't you save him?"

"Wh-what?" Ellis started, visibly startled by Nick's interruption.

"You? Why didn't you save Keith?"

"I wasn't there that time." Ellis admitted. Nick almost didn't catch the words, his voice was so soft. "I had to work at the shop that day. It was Paul that told me the story when I met up with them at the hospital."

"Why?"

"… I don't like the beach. Or the ocean."

"Oh. Thanks, I guess."

"No problem Nick. Try to get some sleep now."

* * *

><p>When he came to, the helicopter was still on fire.<p>

Nick gasped, fighting the urge to fall into unconsciousness and he clutched lightly onto the magnum in his right hand. This was the nth time the gun had saved his life, yet this time was still to be determine. The topsoil underneath him had been scraped off when the helicopter finally crashed, leaving sharp and pointed rocks to dig into his unprotected sides. Above him, Nick could see low hanging branches of trees, a stoplight, and the dark gray smoke of the helicopter's failed engine and rotors.

Nick grabbed at his still aching chest and groaned in agony, rising from the chopper's wreckage as the smoke continued to bellow above him. He felt blood streaming down his face, and the sharp sting on his temple told him that something had just grazed his head in the landing. Touching his hair, Nick felt warm, tacky fluid sticking between the strands. Once again, Nick was lucky to be alive.

He stumbled around the wreckage, reminding him of nights when he had been too intoxicated to even stand. The world around him spun as if he were on a turntable; shapes and colors blended together until Nick was only sure of the heavy magnum in his hand. And that he was alone. Where were the others? The sound of the crash landing must have alerted every Infected within a five mile radius.

Where were they?!

As if answering his silent questions, Nick heard a groan further back. He turned around and saw Rochelle on her side, struggling to turn over. Nick let out a sigh of relief before placing the magnum in its holster and rushing to her side. He hesitated before grabbing her shoulders and rolling her over onto her back. Rochelle groaned again, her face scrunching up in both irritation and pain, before opening her eyes and looking up at Nick. The irritated expression subsided, but the woman still let out a second groan of pain.

"What just happened?" Rochelle asked. She rubbed her temple, and Nick could see the forming bump as she did so. Hopefully it wasn't a concussion.

"The pilot turned into a zombie. We crashed and now we're… here." Wherever here was.

"Wait a second." Rochelle interjected Nick's thoughts. She gave him a questioning look as he helped her up onto her feet. It took her a few seconds to get her bearings, and then Rochelle turned to question Nick further. "Did you shoot the pilot?"

Nick groaned. "He was a _zombie_, Rochelle. What was I supposed to do, let him gnaw on us?"

"Fine, fine. I get it, you did the right thing." Rochelle yielded. Slowly, she stumbled away from the crash, heading to the derailed remains of a train. Over the wreckage, they could both see buildings that were hopefully part of a town. "Do you know where Coach and Ellis are?"

"Nope. I haven't seen them since the crash."

"Oh no. They fell out beforehand!" Rochelle sucked in a harsh breath as her memory of recent events returned to her. Rochelle turned to give Nick a concerned, panicked look. She was met with Nick's own shocked look, frozen with worry at the loss of two of their teammates. "We need to find them."

Nick nodded in agreement. "Got it. Did you lose your weapons in the crash?"

"Yeah, I lost everything. Hold on." Rochelle made her way back to the crashed remains of the helicopter. Nick heard the woman give out a few grunts before there was the sound of metal snapping. As Rochelle reappeared, she held in her hands a metal pipe that was once part of the helicopter's inner safety railing. "I guess this'll do for now until I can find a gun."

"Let's hope that it's good enough to stand up against a horde." Nick said, his ears picking up the sound of something moving behind the brushes. Both survivors turned to see a rotting Infected staggering towards them, growling and instantly turning hostile as it finally spotted them. "It looks like we have company."

Sometimes, Nick hated being right all the time. One infected soon turned into dozens as they rambled out of the foliage, drawn to the sound of the crash like moths were to a bush fire. Both he and Rochelle soon found themselves outnumbered and their backs literally against a wall with only a magnum and a makeshift melee weapon to defend themselves. Their growls and cries grated against Nick's ears and he scowled angrily at the charging Infected. He raised the magnum and took the first shot.

_Bang!_

The nearest Infected's head caved in as the bullet shot through the flesh as if it was butter. It stumbled to the ground, dead. Nick didn't pay attention and aimed the magnum at another. Seven shots followed the first until the clip was empty. Without speaking, Rochelle stepped in front of Nick as he reloaded the weapon, defending both of them until Nick would be ready. She grunted with each swing, putting as much force in her attacks as she could to create enough damage to kill the monsters with such a flimsy instrument.

"Move!" Nick shouted once he reloaded his gun.

Rochelle immediately stepped backwards, allowing Nick enough room to choose his targets. Their process was slow but methodical. After what felt like hours of doing the same task over and over again, the Infected's numbers were falling, leaving a pile of bodies in their wake. Nick only hoped that there wasn't a Special or two lurking around; they didn't have the manpower or the firepower to take one down.

However, years of being a conman by trade taught Nick that luck was a cruel mistress. Nick knew his ears weren't deceiving him; from the sick coughing in the distance, he knew there was a Smoker hiding behind the thicket of trees. It was just out of their sight, and probably out of their reach as well. As his gun clicked empty, Nick shouted his finding for Rochelle, who nodded as her swing decapitated another Infected. She heard it too.

Right before his eyes, the long tongue of the Smoker wrapped around Rochelle's wrist and arm. The woman's hold on her weapon loosened, and the metal pipe fell from her hand. She gasped as the appendage pulled her away, feet dragging against the ground, looking for any kind of hold that would break the slimy tongue. Desperately, Nick tried to reload his magnum as fast as possible as he stumbled after her.

"No!" Rochelle cried out, panic and fear almost tangible in her voice.

Blindly, Nick fired his weapon into the thicket, but none of the bullets hit his mark. Rochelle turned to look at Nick, her fear changing her brown Irises to black, and she reached out for him with her free arm. Nick struggled to catch her hand, but his uncoordinated steps were too slow, and the Smoker's pull was too strong, too fast.

"Rochelle!"

Suddenly, there was the sound of a shotgun going off. The Smoker's tongue went limp as a puff of green smog appeared behind the trees. Rochelle fell to the ground, but caught herself as she gripped a nearby branch for support. Nick ran to her side as she grunted in disgust and unwrapped the slimy tongue off of her arm. As Nick helped the woman back up, he kept his eye on the smoke cloud. That shotgun, Nick could only hope that it came from—

"Oh boy, you two are a sight for sore eyes." Coach's voice broke the tense atmosphere.

Both Rochelle and Nick turned to see Coach carefully stepping out through the bushes, holding an old, banged up shotgun in both hands. There was a large cut on his forehead, which looked like it had just stopped congealing, leaving a dark stain against his cheek and jaw, traveling down to his shirt. Said shirt was covered in both his blood and that of the Infected's. But other than the obviously superficial wound, Coach looked to be in good shape.

"Oh my god, Coach." Rochelle sighed; Nick could almost hear the smile in her voice.

Nick smiled himself, "I've never been happier in my life to see you."

"Same goes to you, Nick. I thought I lost you two." Coach said as he stepped towards them, cocking his shotgun as he did so. He then gave the conman a stern look, as if he was about to reprimand him. The man's tone of voice told Nick that he _was_ reprimanding him. "Nice shooting, by the way."

Nick groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose, a bad habit he had formed since meeting the other survivors. Was he the only sane one left in the group? "He was a zombie, a _zombie_ Coach. I can't believe you two are angry that I killed a zombie."

"Well, he _was_ our only pilot." Coach retorted.

"Where's Ellis?" Rochelle asked, forcing a change in the conversation before a full blown argument could begin. She peeked around Coach's shoulder, looking for the youth. Nick joined her, a small spike of worry rising in him as he saw nothing but untamed wilderness and the corpses of fallen Infected. Where was Ellis, indeed? "Oh no, is he alright?!"

"The young'un was right behind me when we heard your shots. He lost all his weapons in the crash, so all he could do was watch my back." Coach said, his tone of voice level. If it wasn't for the small crease in his eyebrows, Nick would have thought that the larger man wasn't concerned at all. "He shouldn't have gotten too far…"

"Over here!" A familiar voice shouted out, catching the three's attention.

They spotted Ellis on top of the train wreck. He had somehow managed to climb onto of one of the tipped over metal boxcars. There he was, kneeling on his knees, grabbing the far edge of the boxcar, peering over the side and into the unknown. The rest of the group made their way over towards Ellis, watching him as he turned around.

"It looks like there's a village up ahead. We might be able to find supplies there." Ellis stated as he looked down on them. He reached down with one hand, and Rochelle grabbed it. Carefully, Ellis pulled the woman up to him, and she struggled to get her feet onto the top of the car. "Look! _Earl's Gator Village. _There's got to be a map around too, and we can find where we are."

Coach was nodding as he answered him, scratching his chin. "And maybe a working car. We can't be that far from N'awlins."

"I'm sorry, what?! A gator village? That sounds like it's a swamp." Nick voiced both his concern and distaste. He didn't like the sound of this. And knowing their luck these past ten days, they would have to go through the swamp instead of around it.

"That's because it probably is, Nick." Coach answered as he tossed the shotgun up to Ellis, who caught it and set it down. Coach climbed his way up to Rochelle and Ellis, and then let out a long, high pitched whistle as he took in their surroundings. The large man crossed his arms before shaking his head disappointment. "Damn right it's a swamp. And a big one at that. I don't think a car will get us out of this mess."

Ellis reached down again, and Nick accepted the mechanic's calloused hands. With a grunt, Ellis helped Nick over the boxcar, and all four of them silently took in the sight of the dense swamp that lay before them. Just ahead was a broken down garage and a warehouse. Behind that, wooden shacks that Nick could only assume were abandoned long before the Green Flu hit. And behind that, tree canopies and a thick blanket of humidity that seemed to tint the sky a pale green. There were a few crows flying over the canopy, their caws sounding far off in the distance.

Coach calling the swamp big was an injustice; it was enormous. For as far as Nick could see, there was nothing swampland. There was no town, city, road, or infrastructure that dismissed Nick's growing belief that there was any form of civilization within a hundred miles. It had a strange effect on the conman, who felt like he was the size of a gnat compared to the environment ahead of them.

Just thinking of the swamp ahead and bugs made Nick over conscious of the mosquitoes that flew around his uncovered skin. He angrily swatted at the annoying buzz by his ear, scowling as he managed to kill one mosquito before wiping the remains on his ruined white pants. God, he hated bugs.

"I've never seen so much swampland in my life." Rochelle muttered, frowning at the sight ahead of them.

"I just know I'm going to hate this." Nick muttered. In the corner of his eyes, he could see Rochelle nodding in agreement. "If the zombies don't kill us, the bugs will."

"And the gators, Nick. There's probably a shit ton of gators." Ellis added.

"Well this is just _fantastic_!" Nick said under his breath before he jumped down to the other side of the boxcar.

He let out a small _oof _as his ankles ached from the sudden contact. Seconds later, there were three similar impacts as the others joined him. Together, they headed towards the abandoned garage, only to find that it had been boarded up. Without the help of Ellis's lost fire axe, there would be no way for them to gain entry. Instead, they made their way towards the abandoned storage, where they only found a small supply of pills and a single health kit they took off of a rotting corpse.

No guns and no ammo. It wasn't looking good for them. Who knew how many Infected were wandering the swamp they were heading towards, and they were lucky that they hadn't run into any so far after they regrouped. Nick shared a look with Coach, who was frowning. The man was obviously thinking of their next game plan.

"Alright. Our first priority is to find ourselves some supplies: Food, guns, and probably some new clothes." At the last part, Coach glanced at Nick, whose outfit was looking worse for wear now that he no longer had his white jacket. Nick gave him a dirty look, but other than that remained silent because he actually agreed with the man. "In fact, we should all get new clothing. Just something to cover up our necks and arms; the bugs won't be kind to us once we hit water. Let's check these houses first. When we're done with that, then we'll figure a way out of this place."

"Going through people's homes? That sounds… I don't know, disrespectful." Ellis said. He was rubbing the back of his neck, looking outside and down towards the houses. He frowned as he wiped away sweat that was forming on his brow. It seemed even the southerner wasn't enjoying the heavy humidity.

"Ellis, we looted stores all the way back in the Rayford. Hell, even back in Savannah. I don't think that now's the time to be growing a conscious." Nick remarked as he took point and led them towards the nearest house.

"No, we _paid_ Whitaker Cola for our guns. That made us even." Ellis pointed out, increasing his pace so he could walk beside Nick. "And Rayford was different. Those were stores, Nick. These are people's _homes_. People lived here, and we're gonna be going through their stuff and taking it."

"Just think of it this way: they're probably all dead anyway. So why would they care if we take their shit?"

"It just doesn't seem right…" Ellis muttered under his breath, but acknowledged the truth in Nick's logic anyways.

It turned out that people living in shacks the swamp fully enjoyed their 2nd amendment rights, for which Nick was entirely thankful. Within the first set of houses Rochelle, Nick, and Ellis all found replacement guns for the ones they lost in the crash. Ellis even found a pair of machetes hidden underneath a mattress, who gave one to Nick one and then proceeded to wield the other like a katana before the conman snapped at him to stop. They were also able to restock their ammo supply after going through the cabinets of a rundown mobile home. Hopefully it would last them for the rest of their trip through the swampland.

And much to Nick's irritation, but not to his surprise, the swamp people lacked any sort of a fashion sense. Going through not one, but three shacks, for a new shirt that didn't scream redneck proved to be a wasted effort. About 90% of their wardrobe consisted of flannel, and the other 10% was denim. Nick didn't have much of a choice and forced himself to unbutton his shredded blue shirt. He threw the ruined article of clothing into the corner of the room he was in before opening the closet of the house they were currently raiding. He really hoped there weren't any mothballs lying around in there. He hated the smell of mothballs.

Making sure the bandages on his chest were still tightly wrapped, Nick grabbed one shirt and examined it. The green flannel shirt looked like the right size for him, and the stench that radiated off of it wasn't as nauseating as the others. The thick material would make him sweat just as much as his white suit did, but it would protect him from the bugs nesting further in the swamp. And that was good enough for him.

As Nick started to button up his newly claimed flannel shirt, he was joined by Coach, who was looking for his own. Glancing behind, Nick saw that Rochelle and Ellis had already found a pair of shirts to cover up, Rochelle was rolling up her sleeves and Ellis wasn't bothering to button up his flannel. Nick could see that he still had his yellow Bull Shifters t-shirt underneath, and he briefly wondered if Rochelle kept hers.

After Coach was sporting his own taste of flannel, Nick looked around the room. "We look like a pack of god damn hillbilly farmers."

"I actually think we look pretty good. We're like a country rock band." Ellis admitted, tugging his baseball cap down onto his head hard.

"Whatever you say, Farmer Joe." Nick said in a teasing way, smirking as he did so. The comment earned the conman a playful shove from Ellis, who was frowning at him.

They moved further on, taking down any Infected that wandered on their path, past the occasionally placed shacks and into a small corner of civilization. Well, Nick wouldn't call it civilized. But there was a café, two convenience stores, and an actual house all placed together that it could pass as an attempt of a town. A quick look through the café, and Ellis was quickly preparing the group a set of Molotov's. Nick would say what he could about the mechanic, but all those times he and Keith caught on fire had given him experience with pyrotechnics. Pipe bombs included.

Ellis passed the Molotov's around and then the group left the café, despite Ellis's bemoaning of the still working juke box. The garage across from the café had a few more supplies the group desperately needed, including first aid kits. By the time that the four of them reached the furthest convenience store, they were fully loaded and ready to take on the swamp.

They were also met with a strung up Charger hanging above them. Nick looked up at the Charger corpse with disgust, but also with a small amount of respect. _Earl's Gator Village_ had survived the first few weeks of the infected, much longer than the rest of the country. Perhaps there were some survivors in the swamp after all. But before the group could enter said swamp, the survivors stumbled upon a problem.

A small, deep channel that separated the swamp from the mainland. They approached the dock hesitantly, feeling the wooden planks moan under their weight, and stared into the brown swamp water. Across the waterway was a ferry; their only way into the swamp.

"Swimming with the gators? Why no thank you." Ellis said, breaking the silence that had encased the group.

They all turned to look at the sign Ellis had read. Sure enough, the large yellow sign warned them of the perils of falling into the murky water. Here be predators, and not kind ones at that. Nick took a subconscious step away from the water's edge, and he was sure it was just his imagination playing tricks on him as he heard a gator's irritated hiss. Before he knew it, Coach was going on a rant on how dangerous alligators could be. How in one urban myth a man lost his hand by the animal.

"Well, if we just stay out of the water, then we'll be fine." Nick said, stating the obvious. "We should probably start the ferry and move on. We don't know how much longer it's going to be light out and the last thing I want to do is get lost in the middle of a swamp at night."

"I have a bad feeling that this is not going to go unnoticed." Rochelle said in a weary tone as they headed towards the ferry's lever.

Coach nodded and mumbled something in agreement before pulling the lever. A motor started, and soon the ferry was chugging along to their side of the channel. Rochelle had been right, the thing was causing quite a racket; Nick could barely hear anything over the annoying noise. He tried his best to ignore the noise and instead pulled the machete out of his belt loop, raising the weapon as the others prepared for a fight as well.

As if on cue, the first wave of Infected came from the fence to their left. The feral monsters scrambled towards them, frenzied by the earsplitting sound that had drawn them to the group. Nick gritted his teeth as he swung the machete wildly in front of him; they always seemed more desperate to draw their blood when there was noise involved. But no matter, if they grew too close to Nick or the others, they all fell.

By now, Nick considered their group a well-oiled machine. After fighting for their lives together for days on end allowed each of them to read the others' movements. By stepping out of the small huddle they formed, Coach expected someone to cover his back if an Infected found the opening. As Coach blew away the Infected that had popped out of the convenience store with his shotgun, Rochelle kept to his side, using her submachine gun to diffuse the swarming flankers.

All was going well until Nick saw a brief flash of neon green in the distance.

"Spitter!" Rochelle shouted above the deafening roar. She had seen the Special too.

Unfortunately, none of the four could spot the Spitter in time to stop it from coughing up its dangerous acid. Before Nick could see the green liquid that covered the ground beneath them, he could feel it. There was the small sting that soon grew into what felt like each cell in Nick's body were popping, exploding from pain. And that was only from the gasses the dangerous acid released. The acid itself felt like death incarnate. It only took one of them to get hit by it once to learn that Spitters were possibly the most hazardous Specials to look after. Ellis would forever have deep burn scars running over his right leg, reminding him of what was the most painful day in his existence.

"Watch out! Goo!" Nick called out, hastily backing up before the pain could intensify.

The others headed his words and they scrambled to safety as well, all while beating back wave after wave of Infected. The green acid began to fizzle and chew away at the ground below it, dissolving all life in its way. The grass below it vanished, and it was a grim reminder of what would happen to their skin if left unprotected. However, even though the acid itself evaporated quickly, it did its job well enough.

It had separated the survivors.

"Killed it!" Rochelle yelled, informing the other three the Spitter was no longer a problem.

Nick would have made a comment about the lady's talent with a gun if it wasn't for what he hoped was the last wave of Infected. There was simply too many to handle at this point, especially now when Nick had no one to watch his back. He had both the blood covered machete in one hand and his magnum in the other, and it was barely enough to drive the horde away. How much longer could the four of them last under the pressure?

The Infected's screams were destroying Nick's eardrum, as well as the continuous stream of gunfire. Nick could faintly hear the maniacal laughter of a Jockey, and he knew he should be more worried about it if he wasn't so preoccupied at the moment. The others would have to deal with it. The roar of the motor wasn't helping his thinking abilities either, and Nick could only hope that the ferry was almost finished on its journey.

Finally, after what felt like forever, the motor stopped. The ferry was here, and with the source of the ear splitting racket now silenced, the Infected's attacks would grow weaker. With that thought, Nick was gifted with newfound energy and adrenaline. He dropped the machete in favor for his own submachine gun. He felt the power of the weapon as he held down the trigger, cutting down the masses of infected that still dared to attack them.

Seconds passed, and the group stood alone, victorious. Nick felt like he had trouble breathing in the aftermath of the slaughter, as if he had just taken a shot of adrenaline. He wished that was the case; it would have been helpful minutes ago. Corpses and limbs of the fallen Infected finally rested, seeping into the ground where their blood would fester like an open wound. Within hours, the smell would become unbearable. All the more reason that they should leave now.

"Come on, the ferry is here." Coach announced, limping his way towards the boat. There was a large cut in his pants, where blood was now staining the edges. Hopefully it wasn't anything too serious, just something they could patch up on the ride to the other side. "We need to get moving."

"Guys? Where's Ellis?" Rochelle asked, finally noticing that they were one person short.

Her question was followed by silence.

It was then that Nick fully took in his surroundings. Yes, there was blood and bodies, and empty bullet casings. That much was fairly common when a large horde attacked. But Rochelle was right, Ellis was nowhere to be seen. And despite how energetic the mechanic was and how he would always charge into things head on, he was not known to move ahead or fall behind without informing the others.

If Ellis had disappeared, then something was very, _very_ wrong.

All three fell into a state of shock, the world coming to a standstill as they all shared terrified glances. No. No,_ no, no_, this could not be happening.

Nick sucked in a deep breath as he stumbled towards the convenience store, desperately hoping that the kid was just looking to resupply before they took the ferry. His heart was thrumming hard against his chest when he discovered that that was not the case. Something caught in his throat, and Nick realized that he was trying to speak aloud, trying to voice his distress.

"Ellis!" Nick finally shouted, his voice cracking halfway through. His cries seemed to shake Coach and Rochelle out of their own stupor, and their voices soon joined Nick's. "Ellis! Ellis!"

It was almost relieving when Nick finally caught sight of Ellis's blue baseball cap. Almost. What wasn't relieving was that it rested at the edge of the wooden dock. Nick's eyes could only follow the path, which led him straight towards the water's edge. There floating on the surface of the murky water was the corpse of a Jockey. The conman quickly put two and two together and—

Rayford.

"We_ are __**not**__ swimming."_

"_Something under a __**river**__ doesn't sound fun at all to me."_

"_In… the water? I don't think I can do that, Coach."_

"_No. No, you go first. I… I think I hear a Smoker down there."_

Ellis couldn't swim.

"… _I don't like the beach. Or the ocean."_

Ellis couldn't_**swim**__._

"Oh no. _Oh no_." Nick muttered as his feet carried him as fast as they could to the dock's edge.

Nick fell to his knees, completely unaware of the pain made by the sudden impact, and he gripped at the edge of the dock as if it was the only thing keeping him from tipping over. Somewhere deep within that murky brown water was their mechanic. Nick could only hope that he was still alive. And that the gators hadn't found him yet.

"Coach! Grab my hand!" Nick ordered, already reaching behind.

He felt Coach's large hand take his, and without further explanation, Nick leaned forward, relying on Coach not to let him fall in completely. As the water hit him, he felt the slime of the swamp encase him. His first reaction was to not open up his eyes. He ignored his instinct and forced his eyes open, and found that he could not see within a foot of in front of him.

Nick fully submerged his other hand, reaching out to find something that felt familiar. It felt like minutes ticked by before Nick's fingers finally grasped at wet cloth. Nick tugged at the article of clothing, and the body that wore it. Ellis soon appeared out of the murky brown mist, hair swirling around his head like a halo and his mouth open as if he were about to take a breath. And his eyes... they weren't supposed to be open like that, let alone full with so much dread.

Nick tugged on Coach's arm, informing him that he had found Ellis. Coach heaved the conman back onto the dock, and Nick gasped for air. His lungs felt like they were on fire as he panted. He tried not to focus on the burning in his chest and instead on the body that he held onto, just barely bobbing above the water.

"Pull him out, pull him out!" Nick managed to spit out.

Two pairs of hands joined his and together they managed to bring Ellis's waterlogged body onto the wooden deck. Carefully, Nick and Coach dragged Ellis away from the edge and back onto solid ground. A puddle was already forming around the two soaked persons, and it sent a nervous shiver down Nick's spine. Coach kneeled down beside Nick as the conman tried to check for a pulse, placing his ear over Ellis's chest, putting his fingers on Ellis's most prominent artery.

There wasn't one. _Shit._

"Tilt his head back." Nick ordered; they would need to do mouth to mouth.

Coach did as he was told, nodding in agreement with Nick. Rochelle hovered in the distance, unsure of what to do except stay out of the way. She would just be crowding the others, and she was lacking the medical experience that both Coach and Nick had. The best Rochelle could do at the moment was keep a watching eye out for more Infected, gun and Molotov ready.

That was, until she remembered the defibrillator unit hidden behind the counter of the café. She sucked in a breath and took off.

"One, two, three, four…" Nick began, pumping Ellis's chest.

The motions came easily enough for Nick, and it was something he could focus on. That's what he needed right now, something to focus on. If not, then he would realize the seriousness of the situation, and he would panic. And Nick could not afford to panic right now, not when Ellis's life depended on him.

Nick stopped pumping when he reached thirty. He hastily turned to Ellis's face, opening his mouth with both hands. The slippery wetness that soaked his fingers made it difficult and Nick was losing his patience; it was making him sloppy. Coach then took it upon himself to close the nasal passage, pinching Ellis's nose with one hand while holding Ellis's jaw with the other. Making sure that Coach had a tight enough hold on both the jaw and nose, Nick bent down, covering Ellis's mouth with his own.

And he breathed. In and out. In and out. Nick did this five times before beginning the compressions again.

"You are _not_ leaving us Ellis." Nick whispered, his tone almost a bark if it wasn't for how softly he had spoken. _We can't afford to lose you, Ellis._ "Not like this. No, you are coming back right now! We're going to get through this together. You're going to wake back up, and continue being the gun loving hillbilly I know you are. You're going to keep tell those god damn stupid Keith stories, and you're— you're going to come back, god damn it!"

And then he pressed his mouth against Ellis's again.

Half of Nick's brain told him that this was a wasted effort. The other half told it to shut the hell up.

"Get back! I've got a defib!"

Rochelle's voice pulled Nick away from Ellis. Sure enough, in her hands was a defib unit, already charged and ready to shock the mechanic back into the world of the living. Nick scrambled to make enough room for Rochelle. Coach was rolling up Ellis's t-shirt, the wet material making it difficult for him. Now that Ellis's chest was uncovered, the stillness of it seemed even more unnatural. It sent a wave of dread through Nick.

"Clear." Rochelle stated, placing the paddles on top of Ellis's chest.

The shock of the defibrillator unit sent Ellis's whole body shuddering. It stilled once again and Rochelle frowned in determination as the defib unit charged up again. It felt like too much time had passed before the unit's red light turned green, signaling that it was finished charging. Rochelle instantly shocked Ellis again. And this time, it worked.

Life returned to Ellis's eyes, yet they were still dazed as if he was trapped by a blinding light. Nick watched as Ellis's green eyes twitched, searching for anything familiar. Water escaped Ellis's mouth as he choked violently, his head desperately trying to hold itself, even when Coach pushed it back down. Despite how weak his body must have been, Ellis lifted one hand, searching for something. Before Nick could think of what he was doing, he grabbed the reaching hand. Instantly Ellis's eyes met Nick's, and the panic vanished from his face. Ellis squeezed his hand tight before closing his eyes, resting them.

"Stay down, son. We just brought you back from the dead." Coach ordered Ellis, a relieved smile plastered over his face. The big man was tearing up, as well as Rochelle. "You're not leaving us so soon."

"Damn right you're not." Nick added, choking up a bit as his brain finally processed what had happened. Ellis was alive_._ He was _alive,_ and he would _live_. He repeated the words again and again in his head, like a mantra. If Nick didn't, he would surly break down then and there. That, or his still thrumming heart would burst from the sheer amount of anxiety he had endured. Nick had never been more scared of losing someone in his life.

_He was alive, he was alive, he was_—

"Nick?" Ellis finally spoke after what felt like endless silence. His voice was hoarse, and that one worded question was gurgled. Ellis was rewarded with another coughing fit, and he finally reopened his green eyes.

"I'm here, Killer. I'm here." Nick squeezed Ellis's hand again before dropping it. With his hand now free, he pushed his wet hair back, stopping the wet strands from falling into his vision. Nick stared into those eyes, trying to push away the awful memory of how lifeless they were only minutes ago.

"I hate Jockeys."

Nick let out a desperate cry, a mixture between a laugh and a sob. He made the sound again, and Nick was sure that this time it was a sob. Yep, now Nick was sure he was breaking down. He quickly went to cover his open mouth with his free hand, but Ellis grabbed it in a tight hold before closing his eyes. It was as if the mechanic was trying to reassure Nick that he was alright. Slowly, Ellis's hold loosened until Nick allowed the appendage to drop, landing in the puddle that surrounded both of them. Ellis went still once again.

_Breathing, he was still breathing_, Nick told himself. Ellis wasn't dead. Just unconscious. Drowning to death tires a person out, after all.

Silence fell over the group, as if they weren't sure of what to do. Nick didn't move a muscle, focusing only on the body beside his.

"We… we should find him a new set of dry clothes. And a blanket." Rochelle offered, tugging on Coach's shirt. She could see that Nick wanted a minute alone with Ellis, even if the kid was unconscious.

"Yeah. We'll be right back." Coach agreed, standing up as quietly as he could. And then the two were gone.

Slowly, Nick shifted his position so he could carefully place Ellis's head in his lap. Nick grasped at Ellis's wet curls, playing with them in one hand as he rested the other on Ellis's chest. He could feel each rise and fall of the mechanic's chest, and it acted as an anchor for him. He could feel the heat of Ellis's body. Nick felt silent, warm tears streaming down his cheeks and onto his jawline. And for the first time in his life, Nick didn't have the urge to wipe them away.

"Ellis, if you ever do this to me again, I will kill you."


End file.
